


Presumptuous to Assume, Presumptuous to Assist

by 3musketears



Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Soft Goro Week, can be read as ship but there is like two lines of implied shuake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3musketears/pseuds/3musketears
Summary: Soft Goro Week 2020 Day 2 ~ Coffee and SweetsAkechi loses his voice from all the screaming he does in the Metaverse. Yoshizawa takes it upon herself to make him feel better, and maybe even bond a little with the single scariest person she has ever met.Based onthis tweetMAJOR PERSONA 5 ROYAL SPOILERS!!!
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843141
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108
Collections: Day 2 - Coffee and Sweets





	Presumptuous to Assume, Presumptuous to Assist

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's relation to the prompt is admittedly very flimsy, but I was looking at screenshots while writing to get a clear picture of one of the settings and went "huh, I guess that works"
> 
> Like I said in the summary, inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/bloomedvillain/status/1274752871846772736?s=20) I am begging you to go look at their tweets a part of me wants to write all of them into fics because they are so funny and specific. Enjoy!

Admittedly, Sumire found it quite uncomfortable to be squeezed in between Queen and Panther in the front seat of the Mona bus. Not that she had anything against either of them, but Queen kept reaching over Sumire’s legs with her spiked shoulder to grab the gear stick, and with each passing moment she became more aware of how low Panther’s top was. 

And they all talked. Again, not that Sumire minded people talking and being social, but it was just a lot. Their volume was only amplified by her position; the other passengers were either directly next to her or yelling at the back of her head. Being the newest addition— and not really officially being a Phantom Thief— Sumire keyed in on the group dynamic. She’d run into the others a few times before the whole dream world debacle, but most of her interaction had just been with Akira-senpai. From sitting and observing she learned a lot, but none of it gave an opening for where she fit in. The endless inside jokes added a whole other layer of confusing to unpack, she got the feeling they were all things she really had to be there for to find funny. Fox at some point wanted to paint Panther nude, everyone had a thing for Joker’s grappling hook, and turning back to Crow-senpai to whisper “pancakes” was the peak of comedy.

Her fellow outsider claimed a spot she somewhat envied in the corner of the backseat next to Noir. However, while she found the banter between thieves to be overwhelming, he probably found it outright obnoxious. That was probably the best seat for him, a fluffy pink cloud wouldn’t feel the prickly sea urchin next to it. 

Besides hissing like a cat to a spray bottle every time someone (mainly Skull, chief poker of angry bears) made a pancakes joke, Akechi tended to keep quiet except to acknowledge that he was unwanted or remind everyone to be careful. He seemed to think he was being mean by doing the latter, which Sumire could not quite wrap her head around. At some point, he tried to make small talk with uncharacteristic hesitation by asking which of his Metaverse costumes the team preferred. Sumire still didn’t know what the other one looked like, but she could only imagine it being some horrible mech suit or something abhorrently revealing since Crow said he found the striped spandex and the full helmet to be more comfortable. Her main takeaways from the exchange were 1) Akechi _does_ care about people’s approval and 2) Joker’s approval— as expressed through a low, dare she say _flirtatious_ response of “mmm nice and tight” that made Akechi produce a noise so squeaky she felt secondhand embarrassment from it— is most important of all. She supposed they had that in common in a sense.

Mona started discussing the tv shows he enjoyed, which branched off several simultaneous side conversations. Oracle and Skull debated the pros and cons of an anime she watched and a manga he read, Panther talked through Sumire’s head to make Queen understand that reality shows were _not_ rotting her brain, and Yusuke told no one in particular about his recent addiction to a program Sumire was pretty sure was just one of those hour-long ads for a tricked-out blender. This wasn’t uncommon, but what threw her off was the lack of Crow interjecting to remind everyone to keep their guard up. Which was his nice way of saying shut the fuck up. 

She was tempted to turn around to see if something was wrong but she knew it would be a squeeze and she likely wouldn’t be able to see much of the sea of other heads between her and Akechi. Even if she did catch a peak, he would notice her staring, give her a look capable of killing Okumura’s vegetables, and she’d quickly face forward again without having gleaned any new intel. 

Lucky for her, Queen’s shoulder spikes were once again invading her space. That didn’t sound very lucky on paper, but her adjustments made Sumire remember that the front mirror existed as a tool she could use. She didn’t know why Niijima bothered positioning it since there were no other drivers for her to look out for, but her strict adherence to good-driver protocol worked in Sumire’s favor here.

With his beaked mask pushed onto his forehead, Akechi’s deep scowl was on full display. The definitive resting bitch face in top form. While time and experience had dulled the frightening sharp edges of Akechi’s demeanor in her mind, she still found it unsettling yet remarkable how this was the same boy who would say “ _I didn’t mean to start an argument. I just can’t help myself sometimes_ ” with a smile cute enough to be mistaken for a kaomoji. In a fruitless attempt to justify her concern as legitimate and not simply the product of good old fashioned overthinking, Sumire tried to tell herself this scowl seemed grumpier than usual. But quite frankly, she had no idea if it was. She tried not to look at him too long when he seemed to be in a legitimately bad mood lest her supposed pity infuriate him to the point of becoming the coldhearted monster he tried so hard to paint himself as. 

Well, if nothing was out of the ordinary, then it wouldn’t hurt for her to pull both of them into the conversation. Perhaps that would even cheer Akechi up, if such a feat was even feasible by anyone besides Akira. She turned around in her seat, being super careful not to elbow the driver or smack Takamaki in the face. Doing her best imitation of her brooding senpai’s aforementioned kaomoji face, Sumire faced the rest of the group and did her best to make eye contact with Akechi despite the long physical and emotional distance. 

“Crow-senpai, you’ve been a bit quiet. Have you been watching anything interesting on tv lately?”

She’d heard the hushed whispers from the other Phantom Thieves when they assumed both she and Crow were out of earshot, talks of deception and betrayal. Akira didn’t seem to think any of it was worth mentioning, so she respectfully didn’t pry. But Akechi looked at her like she’d just done something infinitely worse than a mere betrayal to him. 

Sumire was reevaluating her prior assumption that Crow’s position was more advantageous than hers. In her seat, if everyone was staring at her she wouldn’t see it because she’d be facing forward. Akechi had no choice but to be subject to the scrutiny of anyone who wasn’t driving or being a car at the moment, though Sumire didn’t doubt Makoto was using that front mirror just as she had. For a majority, it was less her intended encouragement to include Akechi in the conversation and let him talk about his interests, but rather morbid curiosity to hear what kinds of tv shows crazy teenage serial killers watched. She thought of the men in suits, the ones she recognized from Shuujin, who showed up to her gymnastics meets. The ones who she saw shaking their heads and leaving with phones pressed to their ears as she received a trophy for third place.

As usual, Joker swept in to the rescue, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Goro.” In the awkward silence, Sumire could hear Akechi’s sharp inhale at the sound of his first name rolling easily off of Akira’s tongue. She was pretty sure _that_ was new, Akechi’s surprise only solidified the notion. 

The half-answer or biting remark Sumire expected never came. Akechi opened his mouth to speak or maybe even scream, but could not produce much more than the strangled squawk of a dying bird.

His face grew red and he persisted, but the croaks coming out of his mouth bore no resemblance with any words in the Japanese language. Akechi looked like he was teetering on the verge of losing it, like a pot of water threatening to boil over and spill, but for once it would be a silent tantrum. They all watched him squirm like an ant under a magnifying glass.

In a truly odd turn of events, it was Oracle who angled it away from Crow before he burned up altogether. “Joker, since when are you on a first-name basis with Crow?” she asked. Now everyone was looking at Joker for an explanation, Akechi included. Sumire tried not to snicker at the unimpressed arch of his eyebrow, he was just so good at looking so incredibly annoyed.

Because it was Akira, he shrugged it off as smoothly as ever. “I dunno, it just came out. Crow, _can_ I call you Goro?”

Akechi did not nod. But he also didn't shake his head. He opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it once more. Shut it again. For once he didn't look like a shriveling flower abandoned in the desert to wither and die from a lack of water. His expression more resembled the desert itself, an endless expanse with no differentiating features. Blank and devoid of emotion. 

Sakura put it quite aptly. “I think you blue-screened him. I’d say take that as a _try again later_.”

Akechi’s status as a fried computer encouraged everyone to leave him alone for the remainder of the ride. Except for Sumire, who let her gaze linger a moment longer. She saw the way he fought, quick, brutal, and efficient. But also costly. While the other thieves gathered around their leader waiting for him to distribute the infinite well of snacks he summoned from the depths of his stylish coat, Crow stood in the corner, tending to his injuries out of sight like a wounded animal until Akira approached him with Leblanc coffee and the warmest smile. But that was it. Akira's attempts to invite him into the circle with a beckoning hand were fruitless. 

Crow-senpai’s philosophy was to tough it up and just deal with it, and _never_ seek help. Seeking help would mean being weak, stripping him of his pride and independence. He was the opposite of Sumire, who relied on others to keep her going. Whether it be Joker giving guidance and motivation or Maruki warping her cognition so she could avoid confronting her grief. She was... _learning_ , to say the least. Learning how to be her own individual instead of molding herself after the senpai and sister she so idolized. Separating herself from the illusion she’d been caught in was hard, but she was doing so by discovering the difference between assistance and reliance. A team supported each other with encouragement and had each other’s backs. They made sure everyone was in top shape and the best mental state possible given the circumstances. Akechi contributed to that in his stand-offish way but seldom experienced it in return once the battle was over. 

Her musings compelled her to chase after him once they all went their separate ways upon returning to the real world. Sumire had to pick up a light jog just to catch up with his long, quick strides. “Akechi-senpai, wait up!” she called. Akechi looked back at her and slowed his pace, but did not stop entirely. When she caught up with him she was met with narrowed eyes framed by long bangs and a tartan scarf pushed up to cover his nose. Despite his obvious foul mood, he looked cozy. 

“I really recommend you get some rest and hot tea to help your voice come back,” Sumire advised. The raincloud floating over Akechi’s head got darker and she heard distant thunder. Holding a conversation with him would be even more difficult than usual. “I really don’t mean to intrude,” Sumire continued, quickening her pace to keep him from getting rid of her so easily, “I just…” She really didn’t know why she was dancing around the subject, perhaps she feared being struck by lightning. To get through to him she needed to think like him, direct and blunt regardless of people’s feelings on his stance in matters. A blade cutting through a storm. “You need to take better care of yourself and I won’t stop until you let me help you.”

They both paused at a stoplight. Cars whizzed across the crosswalk, sending discarded posters and crumbled up napkins into the air. Sumire took the chance to wipe the fog off of her glasses while Akechi adjusted his scarf. When the light turned green, he pulled it down to his chin and extended an arm like a chivalrous gentleman of old. A contrastingly sharp smirk tugged at his lips. His voice– hoarse and wispy as it was– could be mistaken for a whisper of the wind if not for the visible movement of his mouth. “ _Lead the way_.”

The direct approach proved effective for getting what she wanted. A big smile broke out on her face. “I’m so glad you’ve agreed! But no more using your voice, senpai!” Sumire’s attempts to order him around earned her a raised eyebrow. So she added, “Please!” She took the amused scoff and lack of verbal response as him submitting himself to her will.

On some unknown impulse sparked by her– as Akechi might call it– _victory_ , Sumire wrapped her icy fingers around his gloved hand and pulled him across the street. Akechi’s hand didn’t necessarily feel warm, but it felt better than simply leaving her bare skin exposed to the January elements. Actually she wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, it had the flimsiness of a dead fish and yet contained the restless energy associated with clearly being very much alive. Akechi didn’t try to free his hand from her grip, it merely trembled in her grasp. That was probably just the cold. Right?

She knew the area around their Shibuya Station entry point relatively well and was able to locate the 777 convenience store. General stores such as this one were more crowded in the winter, with families seeing it as an opportunity to come in from the cold without feeling obligated to spend much money. Despite how common these types of businesses were, Sumire found this one to be a bit odd. The stark fluorescent lighting and the constant stream of what could only be described as “cool mom music” ringing through the speaker was standard enough, yet the trouble lied in its organization. Whereas most stores had signs helpfully detailing the contents of each aisle, this one used the ceiling as a means of advertising their partnership with a brand called Delicious Cafe, which presumably sold coffee. Sure enough, their little kiosk was tucked away in the corner and several of their brand name products lined both the shelves and refrigerators. 

The scarf over his nose and mouth only emphasized the dark circles under Akechi’s eyes, so Sumire decided that purchasing something that would keep him awake was a dreadful idea. A hot beverage would surely help to soothe his throat– a few of the girls on the gymnastics team at her previous school also did theater, and often toted around thermoses– but caffeine would be dehydrating. She learned that from a combination of Okumura-senpai’s Mementos musings and her own constant concern for her physical health. 

Decaffeinated tea would do the trick. Sumire squeezed past a few families and a pair of giggling younger girls, making her way to the Delicious Cafe display. Just next to all their coffee were boxes filled with tea bags. The sheer quantity of flavors was daunting, with no less than twelve different varieties of green tea alone from one brand. Towards the bottom was some special throat-soothing tea for singers that sounded very promising. Akechi’s voice had fallen victim to all of his palace-crawling shrieking, surely that was comparable to the vocal stylings of more intense genres of music. She snickered a bit at that thought of Akechi becoming a heavy metal singer, ditching his khakis for dark eyeliner, several large tattoos, and– to be perfectly honest– an only _slightly_ modified version of his dark metaverse costume. 

Aside from her silly mental images, this was perfect. It wasn’t associated with Delicious Cafe, so they likely wouldn’t be selling it at their little store. That meant Sumire needed a source of hot water. Sending Akechi home with the tea was an option, but that left no guarantee that he’d actually drink it. She’d already come this far, she couldn’t let the mission fall out of her control now. It was starting to get dark outside, but her parents still wouldn’t be home for a few hours. Even so, any suspicions they had about her bringing an older boy would be dissolved when her father– who worked at a tv station Akechi once frequently appeared on– realized his identity. Or Akechi would summon all the voice he had against her orders and reassure them in his definitely-not-offputting way that due to him being a homosexual, he had no interest in her in a way that was not strictly platonic.

“Akechi-senpai, I think I picked out a good tea for your throat. What do you-” Sumire turned around expecting to see Akechi looming directly behind her. He was behind her like she thought, but several paces away with a cup of Delicious Cafe coffee up to his mouth. How on earth did he even tell the barista what he wanted? Akechi didn’t back down, he maintained his wide-eyed side-eye while sipping his beloved caffeine. Sumire considered texting Akira, demanding to know how to strongarm the brunette into making decisions beneficial to his health. The boy seemed to think he was a fleet of metal tanks when his human body made him more like one small glass cannon.

“I don’t think you should be drinking that this late,” Sumire advised, trying very hard not to be pushy or annoying about it, “you should try to get a lot of sleep so we can both do our best tomorrow.” The suggestion that he might make himself a liability convinced him enough. It was a bit alarming, he truly only took care of himself in order to be useful to others. Reloaded with new ammunition, but without polish or basic maintenance. Sumire held up her little tea box. “This stuff is supposed to make your throat feel a lot better. We should look at cough drops too.”

Sumire didn’t mind kids. She liked kids, they were cute and bursting with energy. But standing there in the medicine aisle (which took a while to find thanks to shoddy labeling practices) exposed to sniffles and uncovered sneezes made her wish for a scarf to cover her mouth like Akechi’s. A sleep-deprived mother dragging her coughing son towards the cash register unveiled what Sumire was looking for. Honey and lemon-flavored cough drops, two flavors commonly added to tea. She removed them from the rack and held them up to show Akechi. 

Most people didn’t have strong opinions about cough drops. But this was Akechi Goro, and he had very strong opinions on just about everything, from battle techniques to enraged Joker (Sumire shouldn’t have looked down when he blurted out that one. She wished his outfit wasn’t so tight.) to lozenges. Akechi pointed at the display, all of his deep-rooted unresolved anger issues gathering into his left pointer finger. Unfortunately, the emphasis with which he indicated to his preferred flavor did not mean Sumire could tell exactly what he was pointing at. She tilted her head to the side and his pointing just got angrier, his face starting to turn red like a big cherry.

Ah. That was worth a try. Sumire pulled out a bag of cherry-flavored throat lozenges and she could’ve sworn that was the most pleased she’d ever seen Akechi be with someone other than Akira. Even with his mouth covered, she could tell he was smiling from the fact that his eyes didn’t look completely dead for once. 

They entered the checkout line with the singer tea and cherry lozenges in tow. Unfortunately, due to the oncoming cold season, it was quite lengthy. Sumire wasn’t sure if this qualified as an awkward silence or not since her companion was banned from talking on her own orders. 

A child weaved between the two of them to grab some candy, startling her and making Akechi visibly flinch back. The tactic employed by 777 here was obvious, placing a whole other stock of products in the waiting line so those combating boredom would spend more money on a series of last-minute impulse purchases. Her sister had often snuck extra packs of gum into the basket when their parents weren’t looking, and then she’d look at Sumire with a mischievous smile and a finger up to their lips, trusting her twin to keep it a secret. In all her admiration for Kasumi, Sumire never said a single word, even as they grew older. 

Akechi had to be the opposite of Kasumi even more than Sumire was, so she doubted he was just itching to get his hands on a packet of sugar dip candy. Then again– based on his behavior in battle– it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine him tearing the plastic apart with his teeth and dumping the powder into his mouth, staining his lips and tongue an electric blue. She wouldn’t dare ask though.

777’s tactics were clearly getting to her because the pocket-sized books below the horribly trashy magazines looked very tempting. They were all about different animals, ranging from sheep to sharks. The book on poisonous frogs sounded like it’d be the most attuned to Akechi’s tastes, seemingly cute but secretly deadly, kind of like him. Except the longer she spent in his presence mulling over what she knew about him, the more she started to suspect some of his venom might be just for show. Akira seemed to think so too.

Sumire was turning it over in her hands when Akechi’s black-gloved finger tapped the cover. She looked up at him and he tapped it again, tilting his head to the side. “I thought you might like something to read,” Sumire explained sheepishly, “having a one-sided conversation with me will probably get old pretty quickly.”

Akechi considered for a moment, then shrugged. It wasn’t an outright _no_ , but it wasn’t an agreement either. And coming from him, saying that a conversation with her sounded not-terrible might as well have been saying he didn’t mind it. Sumire couldn’t help but smile. 

“You know, Akechi-senpai,” she said, “I think you’re actually a lot nicer than you try to make people think you are.” 

_That_ suggestion got him to vehemently shake his head, but Sumire saw the split second right before that. The brief moment when his eyes went wide and the harsh lines of his face went soft. Not in the carefully attractive way they always were on TV, this was something more boyish and raw. It was so easy to forget that at the end of the day, he was just a teenage boy. Not some scary cartoon supervillain, just a hurt child like the rest of them. Akechi himself seemed to forget that too. 

Sumire realized that her words might have been one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. She didn’t know the details and she didn’t dare to pry, but she knew what kinds of things drove people to close themselves off. She probably knew better than anyone else on the planet what kind of tragedy had to unfold for a person to rework their entire personality. To mask their pain with a smiling face and an outgoing demeanor. To carve themselves into people who were worthy of the praise they seldom received in their true states. 

She knew she did a very good thing.

Once they got to the front of the line, Akechi blocked her from paying by handing the employee at the register his credit card before she could even extract her wallet. Part of her thought there could’ve been more polite ways for him to do that, except she realized he was physically incapable of discussing it with her or vocalizing that he was unarguably paying. It made her hope he would take the tea and cough drops back home with him for future incidents though, which would be ideal. Or maybe she should be _preventing_ future incidents so his vocal cords didn’t sustain long-term damage and obliterate his already so-so communication skills.

As they exited the warmth of the convenience store, Sumire went over a potential pep talk in her head as if running lines for a play or drilling a routine for memorization. She was in no position to be giving advice as his kohai, but if she phrased it right, maybe he wouldn’t dismiss it. 

They arrived at Shibuya Station, thought the route that would get them the closest to Sumire’s house wouldn’t pull in for another few minutes. There on the boarding platform, Sumire took her chance. “Crow-senpai,” she addressed him loud and clear, “this might be presumptuous of me to say since you’re my senpai but…” She berated herself for hesitating, the little voice in her head sounding an awful lot like a certain someone she knew. _Get it together, Yoshizawa._ “Maybe you should try to scream a little less so you don’t lose your voice again?”

Who knew silence could be so actively angry. Sumire backpedaled a bit to try and salvage her scrambled wisdom. “I mean...it looks like you’re having fun, and I’m really glad you are, I think that’s really great.” She planted her feet into the ground, feeling the same connection she did to it when crouched into a battle stance. “But you’re always the one telling us all to avoid getting sick, and you’re putting a lot of unnecessary strain on your vocal cords. I think…” she steeled herself further, hands balled into fists at her sides. “I think you need to follow your own advice senpai! Because it’s very good advice!”

Akechi blinked at her for a moment, then turned away slightly. She could tell he was thinking from the hand raised to his scarf-covered chin, a pose familiar from the days when he’d frequented the station her father worked at. 

“I don’t mean to intrude or tell you what to do with yourself,” Sumire continued more softly, “but you always look after me in the Metaverse, even when you're not navigating. The least I can do— besides not slowing us down— is to return the favor in whatever way I can.”

After glancing back at her with an unreadable expression, Akechi withdrew his phone from the pocket of his coat. She couldn’t believe her eyes, he typed like an _old man_ using only his left pointer finger. How did he become a teen idol when sometimes he barely acted like a teen at all? There was value in presenting oneself as more mature of course, especially in the cutthroat professional world of law, but this was nearly comical.

Sumire’s phone buzzed.

 **Akechi Goro:** You don’t slow us down. If anything I’d say you’re one of the most competent ones.

 **Akechi Goro:** I appreciate your concern, though I do not think it to be wholly necessary or warranted. 

**Akechi Goro:** Regardless, I suppose I should try to set an example. I will attempt to restrain myself.

[ _Akechi Goro is typing…_ ]

Sumire glanced up from her own screen. She wasn’t going to peer over to see what he was doing— that would be rude— but it seemed like he was typing, deleting, and retyping a fourth message. Nothing to do but wait for the phone to vibrate, she supposed. Asking him would garner no response.

 **Akechi Goro:** Yoshizawa-san.

 **Akechi Goro:** Thank you.

 **Akechi Goro:** Now, the train is here, so I suggest you look up from your screen.

Before she could respond, Akechi took her arm in the flimsiest grip known to man and marched them both towards the train. Like with the convenience store, people were packed in like sardines since they were unwilling to travel on foot in the winter weather. Akechi’s forcefulness had crammed them into a back corner. 

“Senpai,” Sumire said as the doors slid closed. Akechi was just turning his head to face her when she wrapped her arms around his waist. _Wow_ , he was tiny through all of those layers. But what really shocked her was just how stiff he was. What, had he never in his entire life been hu-.....oh. 

_Oh_.

Sumire squeezed tighter, feeling victorious when his hands moved from hovering at his sides to awkwardly resting on her back. This had to be the weirdest hug she’d ever been a part of, but it felt right. She released him and smiled. “I thought you might’ve needed that. And um…”

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! :)


End file.
